The Feeling's Mutual
by SlytherinFlame
Summary: Danielle Gregorio is a foreign exchange student entering her 6th year at Hogwarts. Damien and Kelsey are very welcoming. Blaise Zabini? Not so much. Luckily, Danielle's spunky and speaks fluent sarcasm. Blaise/OC. Pre-HBP.


The sound of owls screeches and the hissing of angered cats filled my ears and made them ring. A lizard flung itself into my field of vision and then flew through the air out of sight. A toad croaked and a rat scampered across the floor.

Yes, I was at Magical Menagerie.

School was going to start soon, and, being a transfer student from an American school, I had no idea what to expect from this new school. Hogwarts, was it? Yeah, something like that.

This wasn't the first time I had moved. See, I'm originally from Italy, but we moved to Bulgaria when I was very young and I had my first year of magical education at Durmstrang. Then, when I was twelve, my family moved to Minnesota, and I started going to the American School of Witchcraft for Girls. Now, I'm living in downtown London and going to...Hogwarts. I don't know what to think of that.

The smell of the animals was starting to get to me, so I hurried out the door throwing my black cloak over my shoulders. I was looking behind me, as I went down the cobblestone steps right outside the door, when I bumped into someone.

"Hey, watch it!" a smooth, deep voice scolded me.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I mutter in apology, looking down at my feet.

He walked on, making me want the street to open up and swallow me. I watched his feet walk into the Menagerie and heard the bells on the door ring as the shoes disappeared into the shop.

I wondered if those size eleven men's shoes belonged at Hogwarts during the school year. Probably did. My mom told me that things were different in England as opposed to America. In America, most of the magical families home-schooled their kids. In England, most went to Hogwarts or abroad to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons.

I would be normal and stuff, had it not been for my father's job. He worked as a British diplomat for London's Ministry of Magic. Because of that, I've done my share of moving. Mom works at home with an owl order service for magically knitted cloaks for children. I always warn people before they go into my house to watch out for flying knitting needles. People's eyes have been gouged out on occasion.

That would be a really great story to tell, but unfortunately I'm kidding.

That's another endearing quality that I have. I love to think of elaborate, somewhat ridiculous tall tales to anyone who will listen. Mom says it's a coping strategy because our lives are constantly uprooted and it makes me feel more in control. I don't think so, I just like seeing people's bizzare reactions.

I once told a unsuspecting young man that I was pregnant with his baby. He screamed out, "Miranda?" and took off running, almost sending a pen flying into a nearby granny's face. At the time, I was ten years old. I think that was a very disturbed young man.

Mom punished me pretty badly for that one, but it was totally worth it.

Deep in my thoughts and reminisce, I almost ran into a very short, very pale, blonde girl. As she turned around to face me, her skin sparkled slightly, and I could tell that, despite her smallness, she looked to be about my age.

"Oh, sorry," I muttered, keeping my eyes away from hers. Deja vu.

"Oh, no worries," her scratchy voice reassured me. The voice didn't fit her at all and I found myself looking up into her eyes in surprise, "Actually, I was looking for someone, if you could help me."

"Of course," I said, racking my brains for who I had seen in the last few minutes. Mostly ankles and cobblestones.

"Well, there's Damien Johnson...and his older sister should be around here somewhere too. She's Angelina. He's tanned, really tall..." she tried to gesture above my head, strained on her tip toes, and couldn't reach, "And there's Blaise Zabini. He's got very dark skin, and he's pretty tall too. Kind of angry looking..."

"No I really haven't, sorry," I said, smiling sheepishly, "I haven't seen much of anyone, really."

"Oh, it's okay," she reassured me again, "Are you at Hogwarts by any chance? I haven't seen you around."

"I'm a transfer student from America," I recited. I had told so many people, it was practically embedded in my brain, "I'm Year Six at Hogwarts."

"Me too. So are Damien and Blaise,"she told me, nodding her head encouragingly.

"Okay good. At least I'll know someone."

"Yep. My name's Kelsey by the way. Kelsey Daniels."

"I'm Danielle Gregorio."

"I'll see you on the train?" she asked, sincerely. I nodded and she said goodbye and walked off.

At least I wouldn't be alone...

* * *

Time passed quickly, and, soon enough, I was aboard the Hogwarts Express.

"Be good," my mom warned me before I boarded the train. My father nodded curtly, and my sister punctuated my departure with a traditional eye roll.

I lugged my trunk onto the train and reveled in the fact that I could finally use magic. Needless to say, I didn't so much as have to touch my trunk 'til summer months.

Looking for a compartment to sit in would be the tough part for obvious reasons. I didn't really know anybody. I searched the compartments for a friendly face. First compartment was full of teachers. That's a no go.

Next compartment contained a bunch of little first years. Yeah...no.

In the one next door sat a trembling boy and a girl reading her magazine upside down. Don't think so.

After passing a creepy-looking sleeping guy and some cross looking Ravenclaws, I reached a strangely familiar face. It was pale, heart shaped, and much too large for the puny blue and gold clad body it was attached to. Next to the girl, sat two tall boys wearing emerald green.

"Hey, Danielle! Sit here," the girl said, in a rough voice.

It was Kelsey. The girl I ran into in Diagon Alley. I figured the guys next to her must have been Damien and Blaise.

"Blaise, Damien, this is Danielle Gregorio."

Damien smiled warmly. Blaise gave me a quick glance, and then crossed his arms and gazed out the window.

"Oh, don't mind him. He's just in a bad mood," Kelsey apologized, pointing to Blaise.

"Pointing is rude, Kels," Blaise retorted.

Damien laughed and claped me on the back, "I haven't seen the likes of you before."

"I'm from America," I explained, "But I'm sixth year here." This had to be at least the fiftieth time I had told someone this.

"There's magic in America?" Damien looked shocked, and even Blaise looked over at me, "What school is that?"

"Everywhere has magic, Damien. America's quidditch team killed us last year, remember?" Kelsey remarked. I decided I liked her for that. Girls that could follow sports were good friends of mine.

"American School of Magic for Girls. You've probably never heard of it. It's in the north, near Canada," I said, my eyes on Blaise's incredulous, but unspeaking expression.

"School for girls?" Damien repeated, chuckling, "Sounds like my kind of school, right Blaise?" He elbowed Blaise in the ribs, but Blaise only grunted in reply.

"What's wrong with you today Blaise?" Kelsey demanded, "Trouble at home?"

Blaise's eye sparkled slightly alarmingly, "Yeah, you could say that."

That made me feel uncomfortable, so I looked at the floor awkwardly. That's when I noticed that Blaise's shoes looked awfully familiar.

Were they the ones I saw in Diagon Alley?

I wasn't sure, but they could have been.

Damien cleared his throat loudly. "You gonna tell us what's up Blaise?"

"No," Blaise said simply.

"Drop it," Kelsey said to Damien.

To me, Kelsey seemed like the ring leader of this little group. I wondered why that was. She didn't look strong in the slightest, she was so small. She looked weak and almost sickly.

Changing the subject I asked, "What houses are you guys in?"

"Ravenclaw. Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," Kelsey said, smiling happily.

"Slytherin, and for your information, we're just as brainy, but we'll actually get somewhere in life," Damien said, teasing Kelsey.

"Shut it. The only place you're headed is the Misuse of Magic office. How many offense letters have you gotten this summer alone?" Kelsey snapped.

"None, thank you," Damien said, smoothly. He was used to her, clearly, because he was so unfazed by anything she said.

"Slytherin," Blaise said finally.

"You don't talk much, do you," I questioned Blaise, except it sounded more like a statement.

"On the contrary, he usually doesn't shut up," Kelsey laughed.

"Usually I have to use a silencing charm to stop the gabbing," Damien added, "I've gotten quite good at those over the years, 'cause of him."

I smirked slightly, but then cast a curious glance at Blaise. His behavior was so strange. Was he nervous around strangers like I was, or did he have an aversion to me because I ran him over in Diagon?

"Well, we're almost there," Kelsey said. It was almost comforting, as I could feel Blaise's glare hot on my face.

* * *

I was sorted into Slytherin. I'm not really sure if that's good or bad. I mean, I love snakes and green and silver and what not, but I get stuck with obnoxious Pansy Parkinson, and another boy named Malfoy who never shuts up about all the houses his family owns. At least Damien was entertaining.

"You see that huge guy on the end, there?" he asked me, looking at an enormous bearded man, "That's Hagrid. Are you signed up for the creatures class?"

"Uh, no," I said, glancing over my schedule.

"Good, last year his half brother came and it was a disaster."

My brow furrowed, "Uh, why is that bad?"

"His brother's a giant."

"Oh," I understood what he was getting at now.

"See him?" Damien looked over at a greasy haired, hook nosed professor, wearing all black, "That's Snape. He's potions master for as long as I can remember. He likes us Slytherins 'cause he head of house."

"Okay, cool."

"And that guy," he looked over at the center of the table, "is Dumbledore. Hogwarts headmaster. Hate him."

"He looked a little...I dunno..."

"Insane? Mad? Out of it? Psychotic?" Damien suggested, "Yeah, that's 'cause he is."

"Oh, Dumbledore?" Malfoy inquired, trying to look innocent, but clearly he was eavesdropping, "Father thinks he's just awful, right Blaise?"

Blaise ignored him, chewing his steak carefully.

"Well, whatever. Father's been trying to get Dumbledore out of here for years. Unfortunately, he just keeps coming back." Malice shone through his eyes, and I decided to keep my distance from Draco at that point.

"I liked Moody the best," Damien stated.

"Mad-Eye Moody?" How did he know Moody? Moody was famous in the U.S. for being a great Auror in his day.

"Yeah. You know him?"

"Of course I do. He's brilliant."

"Moody was a great teacher here two years ago. He turned Draco into a ferret. It was the best day of my life," Damian said, looking up to see Malfoy, who had pretended not to hear, but was frowning slightly.

* * *

Soon enough, I found myself seemingly alone in the common room, exhausted. I must have fallen asleep on the couch after the back-to-school party the Slytherins had after dinner. I wasn't the only one there either to my horror. Damian was snoring gently on the other end of the couch I sat on. I got up carefully, not wanting to wake him.

I crept past unconscious bodies strewn across the furniture and floor, just thinking about how awful classes were going to be first thing in the morning.

"What are you doing?" an angry whisper demanded from the corner. I whipped my head around to see an angry Blaise, who looked still semi-asleep.

"Uh, sorry, just...uh..." I jumped over a large seventh year guy, and hopped over to him, "I don't know..." I finished lamely, hanging my head.

"You are so weird," Blaise said.

I wasn't to sure how to respond to that. Sensing that I had nothing to lose, I decided to mess with him.

"You know, in the states, we don't say "bloody hell" or "stupid git". We're much more hardcore."

His face looked of nothing but confusion, "What?"

"Yeah, if I wanted to insult you, I'd call you a 'lily-livered pesticide' or something."

"Bullshit," he brushed me off, shaking his head.

"Well, hey, it is the states. What did you expect?"

"Shut up." He rolled his eyes. It looked a lot like my sister.

"I think that last sentence had more syllables in it than your total word count on the train."

"I don't talk much," he said, "There really isn't much to say."

"I ran into you in Diagon Alley," I said, suddenly, "Didn't I? Right outside of the Pet Store?"

"I believe so, but I don't remember your face. Just your poor coordination." He was leaning in close to me and I had just noticed.

I blushed violently. Coordination was not my stronghold, "What coordination have you got to boast?"

"More than you, you" he said, amused, "What is a pesticide anyway?"

"Something American farmers put on crops to kill bugs and stuff... I don't know!" I replied to his raised eyebrow, "They're muggles."

"Whatever." He was very close now. We both stood nose to nose, but I was so exasperated that I hardly noticed.

"What's with you, Blaise? Damien says you're not always this obnoxious!" I told him, crossing my arms. My face was mere inches away from his. We stared each other down.

"Oh, so you're in love with Damien?" he sneered, "When's your wedding?"

"Oh shut up, you're just jealous!" Where was this coming from? When was I this confident?

"Maybe I am," he said.

Then the weirdest thing happened.

He kissed me.

Wait, what?

I pulled back quickly, "What the bloody hell was that?"

He smirked slightly, "I thought Americans didn't say that."

"Forget that part. Why?"

"'Cause."

"'Cause why?"

"Because I said so."

"Oh great reason," I said sarcastically, "I mean, your judgement couldn't be faulty at all, could it?"

He sighed slightly, and sat down on his chair, "Danielle, it's three in the morning. Do you ever let anything go? You're going to wake everyone up."

I blushed again, "Oh right, sorry. But seriously, why?"

He looked at me, unabashedly, "Because I like you. Duh. Why else?"

"Okay. Feels good to get that off your chest doesn't it," I said, but then realization sunk in, "Wait, what exactly did you say?"

"I like you. Should I tell you in German or do you understand?"

"Nope, got it..." I started, but he have me a blazing look.

"Danielle, I told you I like you. How are you going to react?"

Oh, he got me.

"Uh...well..."

"Spit it out, please. Don't hurt yourself." He still looked surprisingly calm. I wondered how long that would last.

Racking my brains for something clever to say, I finally gave in.

"Yeah. Okay. I don't hate you. So...uh...what now? Wanna go skydiving? What's gonna happen now?" I wondered aloud.

"I don't hate you? That's the best I get?"

"Don't push your luck," I said, sitting on the arm of his chair.

Blaise just rolled his eyes again and leaned in towards me. My eyes fluttered shut.

"I cannot freaking stand you," I whispered into his ear.

"The feeling's mutual."


End file.
